


not-Human

by skripka



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nameless/Brian, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skripka/pseuds/skripka
Summary: Not Eliot, not Quentin. Spoilers for 3.13 and 4.01.





	not-Human

Brian has teeth gnawing on his stomach. 

He shrieks awake and tries to pull away, but his hips are held down in a too-strong grip. It’s going to bruise, fingers marking his hipbones, teeth on his belly. The monster smiles up at Brian’s face and tilts its head, and Brian would find it charming in almost any other situation.

Any situation that didn’t involve kidnapping and dark rooms and exhaustion and casual murder in broad daylight.

“Brian-not-Brian. Wake. I’m bored.”

Brian’s breathing stutters as his pulse races and he remembers… actually, he’s not sure what he remembers anymore. The past few days have been horrifying, but the details have become blurred. Possibly because there has been so much horror.

The monster repeats itself. “Bored now. Want to play. Want to eat.” It leans down and bites the flesh of Brian’s stomach again, not enough to bleed, but Jesus fucking Christ it’s going to bruise darker and faster than the last one, and Brian’s mouth opens…

“Hush, man-we’re-calling-Brian,” it mutters against his skin, breath hot and wet, and its teeth _dig_ in.

…and Brian swallows the scream and pants through the pain. He wants to curse, he wants to shrink away, but he finds some reserve of strength to stay the _fuck_ still. 

More gnawing, teeth and tongue scraping against his skin, more bruises, red and purple and swollen, and the only saving grace is that Brian is still clothed, even if his shirt is ruched up along his left flank, and damp with the monster’s spit on the right.

The monster looks at Brian and sighs, gentle and sweet. “You dreamt of this. Losing pieces of yourself. I just want to give you things. Protect you. Lick you clean.”

The monster is beautiful, and Brian can feel its devotion. It might have been human, once. Its eyes are wine-dark; it’s tall and lean and moves with a grace Brian might have envied, or lusted after, or written about. Before.

Brian’s not sure _he’s_ still human; humans feel things, don’t they? Things beyond pain and hunger. Not this piercing numbness. 

Because he’ll never get away, he’ll always be marked. The world narrowed to moments like this, and moments waiting for the flash of warm blood spatter on his skin, and the endless game the monster wants to play.


End file.
